


Soundwave Conducts The Smut Train

by Grandpas_Cheesebarn



Series: Transformers and You [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Breast Fucking, But With Humans Too, Consensual Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robot Kink, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Somnophilia, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, There's A Tag For That, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 14:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grandpas_Cheesebarn/pseuds/Grandpas_Cheesebarn
Summary: Shameless, sticky, consensual somnophilia. Featuring Soundwave, tentacles, and the flimsy excuse of research.





	Soundwave Conducts The Smut Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InterstellarToaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarToaster/gifts).



> I'm posting this and never coming back, because I could barely look myself in the eye when I wrote this  
> You'll be (un)surprised to know that Soundwave's 'tentacles' do not, in fact, work like this. I, however, am already in too deep.

You were sleeping soundly, clothes in a neat pile beside you as you laid under the covers. Soundwave continued to tap away at the computer, the sound a comforting nothingness. Your slumber was deep. 

Soundwave paused, looking over at you. For serval hundred cycles, he had observed your behavior. He knew about the secret shirts you wore, and the way you behaved around him. He had spent the last cycles researching human anatomy- most specifically, female anatomy. He came to some unsurprisingly conclusions: females were complex, and you had the hots for him. He decided a little experiment was in order. 

Your sleep patterns were unwavering, your dreams deep. He stood up from his chair and moved over to where you rested, careful to be quiet. There were sheets covering you, and he was certain you would notice the sudden loss of heat, so he began to radiate a higher heat output. When he was satisfied, he leaned closer. Carefully, with the upmost of ease, he pealed back the blankets, revealing your unarmored frame. There was something aesthetically pleasing about you, from the large mounds on your chassis to the wires on your head. He appreciated the way you flaunted yourself, and he took great pleasure in knowing the true meaning behind your actions. It wasn't as though any of the others truly noticed. A brief thrill ran up Soundwave's backplates, in the hidden knowledge. 

There was a brief click, before one of his hacking tendrils removed itself from his frame. It drifted down towards you, hovering just above. 

Then, carefully, it lowered. It touched, tentatively, one singular boob. A bobble. In your sleep, you squealed. Soundwave stopped, waiting to see if you would wake up. You didn't stir, and so he continued. The appendage prodded, grasped, and nudged. It recorded data of warm and soft, of a squishy thing. Soundwave, used to the firm and unyielding edges, to cold metals, found himself preferring this. Such a tiny creature, yet so full of warmth. His visor lit up as he began to record.

The tendril released several smaller wires, spreading out across the surface of the bob. You shifted, but remained resting. Slowly, the wires began to explore. More refined data, of warm fleshy things, and he decided to give it a tentative squeeze. His data receptors exploded. 

Suddenly, the only thought at the forefront of his processor was to squish again. And again. And every time he did, you let out a tiny, muted sigh. Soundwave was filled with data, and yet he wanted more. Needed more. Between the cute noises you made, he decided to advance on downwards. With his other free tendril, he slowly ventured across the still unfamiliar turf. There was the upper chest, yes, but he went downwards. He found the stomach, just a little bulge that jiggled when he touched it. He squeezed and prodded, smile on his mask. There were the human hips, but instead of hard bone there was a cushioning layer. Soundwave wondered if every human had such padding. It also squished, like Soundwave could wrap you up and not feel any hard edges. Unlike trying to attempt such a thing with any other Cybertronians. Femmes weren't nearly as soft, and he found himself more and more fascinated. 

But he couldn't just hug you forever. The free tendril moved down again, finding a strange V shape. The pelvis. A typical human arousal zone, he noted as you bucked your hips gently. He stroked absentmindedly for a little bit, before deciding to go even further.

The inner thighs. If he thought the rest of you was warm, your inner thighs were even warmer. It was like the sun itself was penetrating deep into his spark, and he adored it. The tentacle snaked upwards, reaching a pleasant mound. It was plump, an outcropping. He touched it. You squealed. Soundwave stopped suddenly, but you began to shift restlessly, so he slowly continued his ministrations and you grew still once more. The tentacle inside your thighs drifted upwards, prodding again. You let out a very dignified moan. Soundwave's fans had to go into a higher speed setting just to vent all the excess steam. 

There were folds. Soundwave's processor sped up, recalling all his knowledge with eagerness. That was the center of his research. The tendril slowly spread the folds apart, prodding and poking. They were warm and yielding, soft in a way that was truly fascinating. Little wires snaked out, feeling and touching, but the main tendril found a hole. A very wet hole, aromatic scent drifting outwards. Soundwave categorized it, noted it, and filed it away for later. The tendril on your upper chest snaked around each bobble, squeezing like a very eager cobra. Your entire body was flushed, and you let out little mewls, and yet you did not wake. Soundwave was too excited to be suspicious. 

The tentacle prodded the hole, poking. It was a warm area, wet, squishing. Soundwave needed to understand it. Slowly, he retracted the wires and began to insert the tentacle into your tight hole. The girth of the appendage was worrying, he didn't want to harm you, but you didn't even flinch. He slowly pushed inwards, with the squishing wet sounds, your traitorous mouth muffled by a free hand, and the tentacle buzzing slightly. Upwards, the walls of your tunnel were hugging him tightly. It was pressure, intense, and he only stopped when he reached your cervix. You were completely filled out, and yet you didn't even flinch. Soundwave felt as though he would burst. Then, he began to slide outwards. It was slow, yet you gripped him the entire way, refusing to let him out. He pushed back in, the ridges teasing him, the warm wetness incredible to his sensors. You let out several large moans, giving up any pretense of being asleep. 

In, out, in, out. Soundwave began to speed up, his tentacle vibrating. Each time he reached your cervix, you squealed. Each time he pulled back, you whimpered. The pace was brutal, pounding you without relenting and you didn't show any sign of needing rest. Soundwave felt his fans switching into overdrive, as you became more vocal. You were tight, the wet flesh hot against him, the thick girth of him. You bucked your hips in time with the thrusts, earning no more noise than usual. Finally, the tentacle slammed upwards, going as deep into you as you could, curling against your cervix. Warm, squishy wetness had begun to slide outwards, out onto the surface of the table. 

With a shuddering of plates, and a static groan from Soundwave, the tentacle bulged. The bulge traveled outwards, into it reached the end of the tendril and released. An enormous loud of warm liquid, glowing electric blue, was released into you. It filled you up, even as you yelled and clenched down tightly on the tentacle and earned your own release. The liquids and fluids splashed outwards, running down your thighs and onto the berth and even then there was still so much inside you. The torrent abated, but by then you were filled completely and completely coated. You felt warm, inside and out, even when Soundwave slipped back out. The tendril dripped with blue fluid, and the one on your chest hadn't faired much better. 

Soundwave stared down at you. You blushed, hands coated with blue. Tentatively, you drew some familiar markings on your face with the stuff, before reaching outwards to Soundwave. He leaned down, and you brushed your glowing hand on his faceplate with a small, mischievous smile.

"If you wanted to try that, you only had to ask," You whispered, taking your hand back. Soundwave wrapped you up in his tendrils, bringing you close to his chassis as you squealed. Slowly, however, you began to drift off to sleep, in a comforting embrace against a warm mech. Soundwave returned to his spot, but found he couldn't concentrate on his work. His mind kept flashing back to your liquids on his hacking tendrils. And so, he very carefully lowered his head down and brought it up to his mask. With a squish, the mask disappeared, and he gave the liquid a lick. He hummed in interest, cataloging the chemical compounds, before falling silent with a small smile. It seemed his research was a success.

**Author's Note:**

> You cannot wash away the sins  
> (' ；ω；`)
> 
> Toastee: Why are you asking about Soundwave's tentacles?  
> Gramps: no reason  
> Gramps: technically  
> Toastee: You get this sin away from me  
> Gramps: too late
> 
> Edit: this keeps getting kudos. None of us will ever be clean.


End file.
